Hunted
by BlueNeutrino
Summary: In the Amazon Jungle, Hunter and Cossack are being hunted…by a yautja. DISCONTINUED
1. The Hunt Commences

_**Hunted**_

**Summary: In the Amazon Jungle, Hunter and Cossack are being hunted…by a yautja. **

**A/N: This idea literally came to me in a dream and I have no idea how it's going to work out, but here goes. ****Yeah, I know, the first chapter's insanely short, but it's just a partly formed idea in my head at the moment. I'm not sure if I'll continue with it because I'm not even sure where this is going, but we'll see.**  


**Disclaimer: Anthony Horowitz owns John and Yassen. I'm not sure who I'm supposed to credit with the invention of the Predator, but he isn't mine.**

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The Amazon Rainforest. It had served as a hunting ground on Earth for years. Centuries even, for the Hunters that would return to this planet each season in search of worthy prey. Usually it would be a lone yautja that would venture here, one more experienced than those starting out on their first few hunts, and would seek out a prey better matched to his own abilities. Once a yautja had gained a respectable number of kills of _kainde amheda_, then he could come in search of the _pyode amedha_, a more worthy opponent that could match him in the use of weaponry and strategy. Almost every experienced yautja had found that the oomans proved a greater challenge than the mindless drone serpents. Maybe not in the cities that could be seen lit up from space, but here, in the depths of the jungle, it seemed that only the toughest and strongest of oomans were able to survive at all. In this environment, any ooman that ventured here had to be capable of combatting the threats of the jungle, which meant killing the other living things here, if need be. That made them fair game.

However, on this occasion, it seemed that it was not only a yautja that had come to the rainforest intending to make a kill to claim a prize. That much, the respected yautja hunter lurking in the trees, would soon find out.

Ciak'tul didn't notice them at first; the two oomans hiding in the undergrowth. He'd been focussing on the ones surrounding the flying craft, who were equipped with various firearms and looked like they promised to make a good hunt. It hadn't occurred to him that there might be others nearby. When the ooman preparing to board the craft had fallen to the ground, red _thwei _spilling from a hole in its chest, Ciak'tul had had to look round to see where the shot had come from. There was just time for a couple of flashes of red to register on his thermal vision before disappearing into the jungle. Judging from the shape, Ciak'tul could discern that it must be other oomans. Ones, it seemed, that were hunting down their own kind.

The predator had had his plasma caster trained on the armed oomans that were in the clearing, but as they began to panic and swarmed round in a disorganised mess trying to work out what had just happened, Ciak'tul slipped silently and invisibly back into the jungle, thinking he had just found a much more interesting prey.


	2. Prey

**A/N: Not all the chapters will be this short, I promise. It's just at the moment this is forming more as a series of drabbles in my head rather than a continuous narrative, so once I've got this story planned out properly I'll rewrite it to consolidate the chapters and make them longer. Hope you enjoy it though, despite the short length.**

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Practically the instant after the bullet had exited the barrel, they'd fled. They'd given it just enough time for Hunter to see the spider almost vaporize as he shot it from Cossack's neck, but after that, they'd barely even stayed long enough to see if the bullet had found its intended mark. Of course it had. Hunter had been trained well enough to not miss, and he didn't need to spend time staring to confirm it. It was more important that they got moving.

Snatching up their kit, the two assassins vanished into the thick undergrowth of the jungle, obscured from the sight of the handful of mercenaries no doubt frantically looking for them. Then they kept going until they were certain there was sufficient distance between them and their pursuers for them to risk a break.

Hunter and Cossack had been running for over an hour before they stopped to catch their breath. Out of the two of them, the younger one, Cossack, definitely looked the worse for wear. The wound on his neck was still bleeding, and although the blood flow had slowed considerably, much of his khaki jungle camouflage was now stained crimson. Despite him being young and in excellent shape, the blood loss coupled with the non-stop hour of running in the jungle heat was beginning to take its toll on him, and Hunter could see he looked rather pale beneath the brown and green face paint. Hunter offered him a water bottle, which Cossack accepted gratefully, and took a long draught from it before speaking. "You saved my life."

Hunter considered that for a moment. "To take a life and save a life with one bullet…that's not bad going."

Cossack handed back the water bottle, and they both paused for just a few moments longer as they recovered from the demanding run they'd just accomplished. Then, without speaking, the pair of them set off once more through the jungle, unaware of the pair of eyes that watched them from high up in the trees.


	3. Mercenaries and Assassins

**A/N: The chronology in this is getting a little weird, but I hope it doesn't confuse anybody too much. When I rewrite it I'll make sure everything happens in a more logical order.**

**To ReillyScarecrowRocks: For being my first (and currently only) reviewer you get to have a character named after you :)**

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the mercenaries.**

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Captain Reilly was the first to regain his wits following the Commander's shooting. Seeing he was dead and there was nothing more he could do for the man, Reilly quickly rounded on his men. "What are you waiting for? Get after him!" Glad of someone taking control of the situation, the group of hired mercenaries obeyed immediately and headed towards the jungle. Despite Captain Reilly not really being a captain, he was most definitely regarded and treated as one. He'd only ever made it to the rank of lieutenant in the US Army before deciding it would be more profitable for him to go renegade, but such was his fearsome reputation that nobody ever questioned his authority. He was the _de facto _man-in-charge should anything happen to the Commander, and in the current circumstances he was the one taking on the commanding role and deciding what to do next. He called after one of the men who was running towards the jungle, "Sergeant Blake!"

The man in question turned to face his leader, "Sir?"

"Not you. Someone still needs to take the goods to Holborn. We can still make this deal."

Sergeant Blake frowned slightly and looked thoughtful, "For all we know, Holborn could be the one who commissioned this kill, sir."

Reilly nodded grimly, "I know, but that's exactly why I'd prefer to have one of my men keep an eye on him. If we don't get this money we don't get paid. Now get in the chopper."

Blake did as he was instructed, and once the sergeant had boarded the aircraft Reilly turned to the pilot. "Your orders remain the same."

The pilot nodded and pulled back the yoke so the helicopter took to the air, as Captain Reilly ran towards the jungle to lead his men in the hunt for the assassin.

-oOo-

It wasn't long since they'd set off again before Hunter and Cossack came to the river – or rather, one of the Amazon's tributaries. It wasn't particularly vast, but it was wide enough to be a significant obstacle to them. They had begun to wade in in order to cross, but once the water came up to almost chest height Hunter put a hand out to stop Cossack from going any further.

Cossack looked at him. "What?"

"We're not swimming. We'll have to find a ford somewhere further upstream."

Cossack frowned. "Why?"

Hunter looked like he'd come to some conclusion he wasn't completely happy about, but had decided on it anyway. "Most kinds of piranha are scavengers, they won't generally go for large meat, but some types will be attracted to the scent of blood. I'd rather not risk swimming with you in the state you're in now."

"But if we're being followed then we need to get as far away as we can as soon as possible."

"If they were anywhere near us we'd be aware of them. We have time to head upstream to find a ford."

Seeing the logic in Hunter's statement, Cossack turned and began to head back towards the bank, trying to keep his blood soaked shirt out of the water.

Hunter followed him and continued talking. "We'll find somewhere to cross and once we're on the other side you need to let me have a look at your neck."

His tone was concerned, but Cossack brushed him off. "It's nothing."

"If it were nothing I wouldn't expect you to even acknowledge it, Cossack, but if the wound is genuinely serious then it's foolish to try and pretend otherwise."

Feeling admonished, Cossack responded rather defensively. "It's only broken the skin, nothing deeper."

"And it doesn't look to me like the blood's properly clotted yet," Hunter said in a voice that was completely calm, "which mean's there's still a chance of infection. And if you end up dying of an infection now, then that poor spider will have been blown to pieces for no reason."

Cossack couldn't help but smiling at Hunter's attempt at humour. "Alright."

They reached the bank and began to head upstream. Nobody was behind Hunter to see the three red dots of light that had just appeared on his back.


	4. Tactics

**A/N: Apologies once again for the ridiculously short length. I'll be honest, this fic really isn't get much attention off me at the moment. I'm just writing little drabbly bits for it on the odd occasion, and maybe if one day I decide to do this thing properly I'll sit down and write full length chapters and try and develop a strong plot. But for now, the other stories I'm working on are getting most of my attention and I'm doing bits and pieces for this just for fun. I'm not sure what this may develop into in future or even if I'll continue with it, so I may as well just post the bits of it I get done whatever their length.  
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Ciak'tul had been following the oomans for almost three hours now, and his patience was wearing thinner by the minute. The only reason he hadn't killed them yet was because he believed it would be bad sport to shoot them when neither of them was aware he was there, but he was beginning to think that if they chose to be oblivious to their surroundings then it was their own fault. Initially, he'd considered them fair game: they had, after all, managed to kill another ooman who was surrounded by a group of armed guards and then managed to escape. He had hoped they would then go on to hunt down the other armed oomans, but they seemed to have no interest in doing any such thing and, if anything, appeared to be running away. Ciak'tul was disappointed. He had wanted the challenge of hunting down another hunter, but it seemed these two had only been interested in claiming one trophy. They were hardly worth his effort.

He supposed he could just kill them now. He wouldn't claim their skulls as trophies, of course, as they hadn't presented enough of a challenge, but he would still skin them as was traditional.

Ciak'tul trained his shoulder cannon on the back of the larger one, who was walking behind the other as they made their way along the riverbank. He was about to fire when another thought occurred to him. What had happened to the other armed oomans? If one of their comrades had been killed then they were hardly likely to let the killer get away with it. What if these two were running because they'd discovered that now they were the prey? Maybe that was what this was about. The oomans were taking it in turns to hunt each other. Behind his mask, Ciak'tul smiled. This hunt could still turn out to be interesting after all.

He deactivated his plasma caster and turned to head back in the direction he come from through the trees, in search of the other group of oomans he had left behind. He knew they wouldn't be far away, and at any rate he was able to move much faster then they were without being seen. If they were hunting for the other two oomans in this jungle, then he wanted to let them believe they were the predators. It would make things so much more satisfying for him when he finally killed them.

A low, unearthly laugh reverberated through the rainforest as Ciak'tul planned what he was going to do next. First, he would make trophies out of the other ooman hunters. Then once he had done that, he would claim their prey as well.


	5. First Blood

**A/N: Okay, I'm not likely to update this fic very often. I'm not even likely to write much when I do update, as you've probably noticed by now, but I'll try and keep dipping into it occasionally.  
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By nightfall, Reilly's team of mercenaries were no closer to catching the assassins than they had been twelve hours earlier. Initially they'd been optimistic when their expert tracker, a man called Garcia, had identified two tracks leading away from the clearing, and they'd hoped that it would be easier to track down two men in the jungle rather than one. However, the hitmen were proving incredibly evasive. In the first hour after the shooting they'd moved far too quickly, and even Garcia was struggling to work out exactly which direction it was they'd gone in. In the end Reilly had decided that they should head in the direction of the nearest city, even though it over thirty miles away, as that was no doubt the destination the assassins were trying to reach.

After they'd been going for several hours without stopping the sun had finally set and cast the jungle into almost complete darkness. Reilly had wanted for them to still press on, as it would hopefully mean they could catch up with their quarry, but he quickly realised that his men were exhausted and it would be almost impossible for them to continue in the dark. Instead, Reilly had ordered them to set up camp and get some rest, but be ready to move at first light. That order wouldn't be hard to follow as the camp was incredibly minimalist anyway: none of them had anticipated how the day's events would turn out and there hadn't been time for them to bring mosquito nets or hammocks. Most of them were now trying to get some sleep on the jungle floor while one of them kept watch - they'd been taking it in turns to look out for whatever threats might be hiding in the jungle; be it jaguars, indigenous tribesmen or other soldiers.

The third man on the roster for the watch was a South American named Rodriguez. He was the youngest of Reilly's men: a twenty-one year old Argentinian who'd spent three months fighting in the Falklands before deciding, like Reilly, that it would be better to go renegade. Despite his relative inexperience, Rodriguez had a ruthless nature and a natural talent for marksmanship that Reilly thought would make him incredibly useful as part of his elite unit of hired soldiers. In the two years since Reilly had hired the Argentinian Rodriguez had continually proved the Captain's decision to be a good one: he was efficient, a crack shot and had shown he was capable of effectively taking out enemies even when outnumbered. All this came of Rodriguez's determination to prove he was every inch as good as the other men, despite being younger than the rest of them by several years, and on this occasion he was as determined as ever not to disappoint. Even though the task of keeping watch in the dark was far less demanding than storming a drugs den to steal the goods, Rodriguez still wanted to perform it to the best of his ability. If he let his concentration on the situation slip just for a minute, then that would no doubt be the minute in which something dangerous or important would happen, so he had to remain focussed.

He'd been keeping watch for about twenty minutes when he did indeed notice something unusual. It wasn't that he'd seen anything – it was difficult to make out any shapes at all through the darkness and the shadows cast by the thick foliage – but he definitely heard something. There were always plenty of sounds of wildlife in the jungle, but Rodriguez definitely thought he'd heard something that seemed out of place. It didn't sound like an animal – if anything it sounded like somebody _laughing. _Rodriguez thought it had come from somewhere off to his left, and he peered through the darkness to try and make out what it was that had caused it. After several more moments of silence, and realising that it was no use trying to see anything, Rodriguez just dismissed it as being an unusual sounding birdcall that his imagination had exaggerated to make it sound like laughter. There was probably nothing there that he needed to worry about.

After a few more minutes, however, he thought he heard it again, this time from his right and closer than before. He held his breath, slightly nervous, and tried to listen. There didn't seem to be any noise now, and he thought it was probably just a kind of birdcall he wasn't familiar with. He began to relax slightly, but then noticed another sound coming from the same direction. This one sounded different: quieter, and not like laughter at all. It was a clicking sound, similar to that a cricket might make, but it didn't sound quite right to belong to an insect. The pitch and frequency were far too low – it sounded like it was coming from something much larger. Most definitely unnerved now, Rodriguez considered waking the others, but then thought how they'd react if it turned out he'd woken them because he was scared of some tiny, harmless jungle animal. He'd never be able to live it down.

He tried to forget about the noise and focus on listening for sounds he definitely knew to be threatening: footsteps from outside the camp, for one, or the sound of something large moving in the trees overhead, possibly a jaguar. Just as he was contemplating that thought about the Amazon's largest predator, there was the sudden sound of something moving in front of him as the leaves on the bushes rustled loudly. Rodriguez went very still and fixed his eyes on the space in front of him. It was just completely black; he couldn't see anything, but there was definitely something there. Maybe it _was _a jaguar. Rodriguez thought that would definitely be a valid reason for waking the others, but at the same time he couldn't be certain it was a jaguar at all. It could be something much smaller, something that really wasn't all that dangerous at all, and before risking having the others believe him unnecessarily nervous and jumpy at the slightest thing he had to be sure.

Slowly, he moved his hand inside his jacket to slide out the pistol that was in a holster strapped to his chest. Even if it was a jaguar, he thought he could handle it. The others would surely respect him all the more for it if he managed to take down a threat to the camp without their help. There was a clicking sound as he removed the safety catch on the gun and cocked it, and the noise seemed unnaturally loud against the background noise of the rainforest. Slowly, Rodriguez got up from the mound of earth he'd been sitting on and crept forward, trying to remain as silent as possible. If there was a jaguar there he wanted to surprise it and quickly put a bullet it its brain before it had any chance to attack him. Moving slowly forward into the darkness of the trees, he kept expecting to see the faint outline of a large cat on the jungle floor, maybe with its spots highlighted slightly by the faint moonlight that was filtering in through the canopy. But there was nothing there, even as he went further, and he began to wonder if whatever it was had simply been passing through near the camp and had gone a long way away by now. He was just about to turn back when there was once again the sound of leaves rustling off to his left and he quickly whipped round to face the direction of the noise, his gun held out in front of him. As he looked, once again there didn't seem to be anything there, but he could most definitely see a bush still shaking in the wake of whatever it was that had disturbed it. Judging by the size of the bush, it seemed to be a significant disturbance. _Ok, it's definitely a big cat, _Rodriguez thought, and continued forward to try and find the feline intruder, gripping his pistol firmly. He knew the first thing he was likely to notice about the jaguar would be the eyes: the lighting was too dim to clearly make out shapes, but cats' eyes had a reflective quality that meant they would amplify the little moonlight there was beneath the jungle canopy. Rodriguez was expecting to be able to make out a small pair of silver orbs at some point as he continued forward, but as he heard the sound of movement behind him once again and spun round, what he actually saw was completely different.

Two red flashes of light, just above head height and positioned in such a way to give the impression of eyes, leered at him through the darkness. They were only there for a second and once they'd disappeared Rodriguez could see nothing where they'd been, but he knew he hadn't imagined them. Panicked, his finger froze on the trigger as he tried to take in what he'd just seen, but as all around him the trees erupted with movement he fired blindly at whatever was there.

He didn't realise he'd been screaming until a flash of light erupted from the darkness and he felt something slam into his chest and knocked him to the floor, forcing the air out of his lungs. His vision blurred and he dropped the gun, but as he blinked and tried to get to his feet again he realised that he was somehow still alive. There was a burning pain in his chest, like something had scorched the skin but still managed to penetrate further into the chest cavity, and he coughed and spluttered as he tried to get up. He could hear sounds of movement coming from the direction of the camp now, and he realised all the noise must have disturbed the others. Grateful that they must surely be coming to rescue him and kill whatever that _thing _was, he tried to call for help, but breathing was difficult and all that came out was a barely audible gasp. He was still on his hands and knees and was finding it difficult to stand, but as he looked up he saw more flashes of gunfire through the trees and felt hopeful that Reilly and his men were coming.

Spurred on by that thought, he managed to raise his head and straighten his back in a position to get up and he tried to raise himself off the floor. His efforts were further aided by the wire that closed itself round its neck and lifted him upwards so that his feet no longer touched the ground. Rodriguez barely had time to register the sharp sensation of something cutting into his throat or the strange feeling of hovering several meters above the floor before everything went black.

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**A/N: About the Falklands thing: the canon timeline of Alex Rider is a bit messed up anyway, since Anthony Horowitz has been writing these books for over ten years but Alex has been fourteen in all of them. Since this is set about fifteen or so years before the events of the books, I don't think it's completely unreasonable to assume that this might be happening in the early to mid eighties after the Falklands War. A couple of issues I had trying to decide when to set the story, and therefore messing up facts, have now been smoothed out. It's not really that important to the plot – I just wanted to give Rodriguez a bit of backstory. Not that it matters since he's dead now anyway.  
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**Hope you liked this chapter! I have a feeling future chapters are going to get rather gory, and I'm going to focus more on Hunter and Cossack next time. However, since in a canon-complicit world they can't actually die, if I want to have gory death scenes I'm going to have to kill off the mercenaries. ReillyScarecrowRocks, please don't be offended if I kill off your namesake! (I haven't decided that I definitely am going to yet, but if I do it's nothing personal, it'll just be because it's useful to the story.) ALBANY, I had an Argentine character for you (at least I **_**think **_**you're Argentine, as according to my stats page Argentina is the only Spanish-speaking country I've had hits from.) Sorry that I killed him off so quickly, but since almost all the characters are supposed to die in Predator movies then hopefully you won't be too upset by that.**


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